Dreams Of Sammy
by Land Turtle
Summary: Set during 3.10 - Dream A Little Dream Of Me. Sam takes the dream root and follows Dean into his dreams. Only problem is Dean doesn't think of his brother in a very platonic way and how is Sam going to react to seeing himself bent over the implala with his brother on top of him? Wincest, smut and strong language
1. Chapter 1

**Set during 3.10 - Dream A Little Dream Of Me. Wincest and smut ahead. Multichapter fic. **

African dream root. African fucking dream root.

Dean didn't like a lot of things, he didn't like people messing with his baby (that could either be his car or his Sammy) and he didn't like people trying to get in his head. Dean didn't even venture that far into his own head. But because of one little stoner dude, Sam wanted to get inside his head. Dean's head was not a place for Sam, not his Sam. No, Sammy was too pure and good to ever peek into the disgusting darkness that was Dean's mind.

Dean knew that he deserved his fate, he knew that he should burn in Hell because after all Hell is the place for sick bastards like Dean Winchester. The place where men who wanted to bend their baby brothers over and fuck them senseless were punished. And Dean knew that he deserved that punishment.

And Dean knew that if Sam got a look into his brother's head then Sam would know too. Know what a sick fuck Dean really was. He would know that all Dean could ever think about was Sam, Sam naked, Sam bent over the impala, Sam moaning, Sam, Sam, Sam. Dean couldn't lose his brother, no, he'd die before he'd allow Sam to hate him.

But that meant that Dean would have to say no to Sam. And Dean could never resist Sam, if Sam wanted it then by God, Dean would get it for him. Because Dean would do anything to see his brother smile. Dean lived for his little brother's dimpled grin and if he could be the one to put it there then let's just say it made Dean one happy son of a bitch.

Dean turned his head to look at his brother, biggest mistake he ever could have made, because there was Sammy with his wide puppy dog eyes and his mouth turned down at the corners.

"I'm not letting you do this alone, Dean. I'm coming with you"

Sam had his no nonsense tone on, the one that usually accompanied his classic bitch face. And goddammit, Dean gave up. He was tired and angry and if Sam wanted to see what a mess his brother was then fine.

"Just don't hate me when it's over, Sam"

Dean's words were mumbled, barely coherent and didn't make any sense to Sam. The elder WInchester simply lay back and closed his eyes. He welcomed his sleep with open arms.

Sam watched his brother for a split second before joining Dean in his dreams.

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	2. Chapter 2

Dean didn't really want to leave the car once he had fallen asleep and woke up inside his own mind. He didn't want to uncover anything, more importantly he didn't want Sam to uncover anything, to learn Dean's dirty little secret.

"Come on, let's go"

Sam hadn't even finished his sentence before jumping out of the car to explore the confusing world that was his brother's head. Sam wasn't really sure what they would encounter, he hoped to hell he did not have to witness any "Busty Asian Beauties" fantasies that Dean was likely to have. Dean was open enough with Sam as it was and there was some things that he didn't need nor want to know.

Dean forced himself to move, to get out of the car. His movements were heavy and slow, sluggish even. He was aware that he probably looked like a man walking to his death. Hey, there was a chance Sam would be so disgusted that he might kill Dean thinking that his brother was possessed. Dean looked up at his brother, the fact that he had to still annoyed the hell out of Dean - he was the oldest goddammit, and saw that Sam was watching him, waiting for him to take charge. Because that's how it was for the Winchesters, it didn't matter how much of a fuss Sam would kick up, Sam would always follow his older brother's lead. Always. And, Dean, in his own sick way loved it, because it meant that Sammy was his and my God, did that make Dean feel all warm and happy inside. It made his dick happy too, but he tried to ignore that.

So, Dean strode on ahead, making sure to swagger. He couldn't have Sam knowing he was afraid, no, that's not how it worked. And Sam followed him, matching every step like he always had. Dean hated walking next to Sam, it physically hurt being close to him and not being able to touch him. He wasn't saying he wanted to walk off into the sunset holding hands with Sam, but he'd like every now and then to just brush against him or something. Or, you know, grab Sam and push him up against a wall, that'd be pretty awesome.

In accordance with Dean's thoughts, a wall sprung up. In the middle of a fucking forest. And Sam was looking at him like he had about 4 heads.

"Shut up"

Dean growled at Sam and continued to walk forward. His feet crunching on the twigs and dirt beneath him. It just seemed as if there were trees and trees going on forever and Dean knew he never dreamt simply about trees. Dean sighed and tried to focus on finding this Jeremy kid and when he did find the little shit, Dean would tear him apart.

Sam was quiet by his brother's side, well as quiet as a fucking sasquatch could be with heavy footfalls. In all honesty both brothers were quiet, both scared of what they might find.

They seemed to reach some sort of clearance and there was themselves, Sam and Dean on the impala bonnet. Dean forgot how to breathe as he watched his dream self crush Sam to him and kiss him like there was no tomorrow. All teeth and tongue and aggression. And Sam was making these noises, proper happy noises and Dean's hands were everywhere and so were Sam's and god was Dean jealous of his dream self. Sam and Dean didn't seem to notice they had an audience as they continued to kiss and bite and lick at each other. Their clothes were beginning to scatter over the grass and fuck, Dean was bending Sam over. And Sam was moaning like a fucking porn star and Dean could practically feel his dick trying to get out of jeans.

And that's when dream Sam looked over and smiled, all bright eyes and dimples and goddammit if he didn't look fucking edible. Dean could tell the real Sam was looking at him too but Dean couldn't take his eyes of dream-Sam. Because dream Sam was looking at Dean like he was a fucking god and Dean wanted to punch his dream self for touching what was his. Dream Sam just kept moaning and chanting Dean's name and Dean was doing all he could to not go over and take his dream self's place, to be the one of top of Sam, to be bending him over, to be kissing and biting his neck, marking him.

Dean's train of thought stopped dead when he felt a fist smack into his face sending his head flying back, and there was Sam, the real Sam. Sam who looked like he might throw up. Sam who just punched his brother.

"Sammy"

Dean's voice was barely a whisper, desperation leaked into his voice. No, no, no, Sammy, I'm sorry, please, no, don't hate me.

"Don't. Just don't"

Sam's reply was harsh, his voice sounding full of gravel. Dream Sam and Dean had long disappeared leaving the real Winchester brothers alone. The tension seemed to radiate from them and Dean couldn't even bring himself to look at Sam's face, to see the hatred that was undoubtedly there. And that's when they heard the sound of twigs snapping beneath feet and there stood Jeremy, baseball bat in hand and a smirk planted across his ugly face.

"And I thought that I was fucked up"

**I want to give a massive thank you to everyone who has followed this story, added it to favourites or reviewed. You guys are amazing and let me know if you want more, reviews are always helpful :)**


	3. Chapter 3

Dean stared at the twisted face of Jeremy, taking a split second before charging at him. Dean was going to kill the kid, he was going to fucking destroy him. If it hadn't been for Jeremy then Sam would have never found out, Sam wouldn't hate Dean. It was Jeremy's fault that Sam stared at Dean like he had never seen him before, it was Jeremy's fault that Sam had punched Dean. It was all Jeremy's fault.

Sam watched his brother's face contort as he laid eyes on the Jeremy kid, Sam watched as pain, guilt and unadulterated anger engulfed Dean and then Dean was at the kid. Dean was punching him, pounding his face with his fists. Sam couldn't move, he was tired and confused, everything was too much.

Dean didn't think he had ever punched someone so much, his fists was a blur in front of him, all Dean felt was anger. And he knew, that really, it was himself that he wanted to hurt, to punish. For years, Dean had made sure his little brother never knew, made sure that Sammy never suspected a thing, made sure not to stare too long or touch inappropriately but now, now Sam knew. And Sam hated him. Sam would leave him. Again.

Dean couldn't breathe, his arms were like lead, his knuckles stained with blood. Sam would leave. Dean couldn't live without Sam. He couldn't. He'd rather die, he'd rather face Hell. He looked down at the bloody face in front of him before swinging one more punch.

A punch that made both brothers jolt awake inside of the impala, where the only sounds were beating hearts and harsh breaths. Dean didn't know what he was meant to say, he didn't do chick flick moments. Sam was the one who could talk about important things. Dean could only make stupid jokes and put on his signature grin. That was all Dean was good for.

"How long?"

Sam's question seemed to have left his mouth before his brain had fully registered his thoughts. Sam's thoughts were a mess though, just a jumble of hurt and confusion. Dean drove for a while without speaking, he didn't want to answer Sam's question, to let his brother how long he had been a sick little freak for. But, as always, if Sam wanted something from Dean then Sam got it.

"I don't know, around the time you started high school"

Dean spoke fast, his answer mumbled. If Sam didn't catch it the first time then Dean was sure as hell not repeating it. He chanced a look over at the man next to him, Sam's brow was furrowed and his lips pursed. Dean knew that look, it was the face Sam had on when he had to solve particularly hard problems. Because that was Sam, always had a solution, always had to fix everything, fix everyone, fix Dean.

There some things in life that Sam thought he would always understand. He knew he would never not understand simultaneous equations or gravitational energy. And up until a few hours earlier, Sam was sure he would always understand his brother. But, this, this didn't make sense. Why would Dean think of Sam like that? Dean was straight as a fucking arrow and seemed to hump everything in a skirt. Why would someone like Dean want someone like Sam? Sam knew that Dean was charming and funny, and Sam would have to be blind to not realise that his brother was most definitely considered attractive. Dean was everything that Sam wasn't. Sam had spent the whole of his life in the shadow of his older brother, he was just the hot guy's freakishly tall brother.

Sam liked understanding things, he enjoyed theories and knowing the in's and out's of everything. If he didn't understand, he didn't feel safe. Sam tried to think back, to think of any clue that Dean had thought of him more as a brother when they were growing up. He knew that Dean had always watched Sam, his eyes stalking his brother's every movement. It had made Sam feel protected and loved, because he knew, that no matter what, Dean would be watching out for him. But, had Dean, instead of keeping an eye on Sam, been appraising him? Checking him out?

Sam's mind was just a whirlwind of never ending questions. Was Dean in love with him? Is that what this was? Or did Dean just think Sam was nice to think about.

"Fuck. Sammy. Say something. Anything"

Dean's plea was harsh, his hands gripped at the steering wheel hard enough for his knuckles to turn white. It scared Dean when Sam was quiet. He needed Sam like the air he breathed and that meant he had to hear Sam's voice.

"There's not much to say, Dean. I mean do you love me? Are you in love with me? Or am I just your kink of the week?"

Sam's tone had turned sour by the end of his question, his face and voice but betraying his unhappiness at the thought of being a "plaything" for Dean. It made Dean want to reach over and shake his brother because Sam was never just anything. Sam was everything. Dean didn't know if he was in love. He didn't know what that was. He knew that he loved Sam, loved him so much his chest would tighten when Sam was near or his breaths would shorten. Dean knew that he'd willingly sacrifice anyone to keep Sam safe. And Dean also knew that the thought of Sam made Dean's inside warm up and his blood rush down south. He knew he'd do anything to be able to have Sam, to take him, when he wanted, wherever he wanted. Was that what being in love was? Loving someone and wanting to fuck them senseless? Because, if it was then Dean was in love with Sam. Dean was insanely in love with Sam. And god, did that terrify the fuck out of Dean.

"I think...I think I love you"

Dean could barely breathe, he was sure he'd never be able to unclench his fingers. There stiff and firm around the steering wheel and Dean didn't dare look in Sam's direction. He had said words that he never thought he would say and now he knew that Sam had complete control. Sam could break Dean with only a few words. Sam's rejection would burn worse than any hellfire and all Dean could do was sit and wait.

**I want to thank everyone again for all the feedback! As always let me know if you want more chapters :)**


	4. Chapter 4

Sam was hurt. His chest ached in a strange and unpleasant way, he gasped for air but his lungs felt empty. Dean loved him. Dean was in love with him. Sam was pretty sure there wasn't a certain protocol on how to deal with finding out your brother was in love with you so Sam felt justified in feeling hurt.

Dean couldn't love Sam because if he did then why didn't he constantly blow Sam off to hang out with girls? Or make Sam wait at some seedy bar while Dean took someone back to their room? If Dean loved Sam then he wouldn't just forget about Sam as soon as some girl with big tits and a little waist walked by.

Once Dean had turned 16, Sam got used to being forgotten about. Sam knew that Dean would much rather hang out with some airheaded babe than spend time with his nerdy little brother. So, Sam got used to Dean ditching him, cancelling plans and breaking promises. Because Dean was Dean, and Dean liked having sex with random strangers.

Sam's thoughts whirled around his head, a mass of confusion. Why hadn't Dean just told Sam how he felt? When they were younger they told each other everything, no matter how embarrassing or stupid.

Sam looked over at Dean, the man next to him had no resemblance to his brother. This man was tense, his back painfully straight and his hands fastened to the wheel so hard Sam was sure Dean would never be able to unclench them. Sam had made Dean look like that, it was Sam's fault, it always Sam's fault.

Sam continued to stare at his brother, tracing every detail of Dean's face as if he had never seen it before. Of course Sam knew Dean's face as well as he knew his own. He knew every expression that had ever been on his brother's face and he had committed them all to memory. Sam could not bear the sudden rush of pain that threatened to swallow him when he thought of what it would be like when Dean was in Hell. He could not bear to think of the silent road trips, or renting one bedroom motel rooms. Sam needed Dean, he had always needed Dean. Because Dean took care of Sam, never let him anywhere near harm and now because of Sam, Dean was going to Hell.

Sam thought of every time Dean had sacrificed himself for Sam. Every time Dean had gotten in school for beating up anyone that dared to hassle his brother, every time Dean had fought with their father for Sam, every time Dean had gotten hurt, had almost died just to keep Sam safe. Sam knew that Dean would do anything for him and maybe, it was about time Sam returned the favour.

Sam was sure he did not share the same kind of love that his brother had for him. But he knew that he did love Dean and he'd do anything to see him smile. And Sam owed him. Because Dean was dying, Dean was going to Hell, Dean had given up his soul for Sam. And Sam would give Dean anything he wanted and it seemed that all Dean wanted was Sam.

Sam wasn't sure how far he could go with this but he would try, for Dean. Because if this was Dean's dying wish then Sam was sure as hell going to make sure it came true. Even if Sam wasn't being entirely honest or true in his actions, he could fake it. For Dean, Sam would do anything. Even give himself to Dean, if that's what his brother wanted, then Sam would do it.

"Stop the car, Dean"

Dean jumped at his brother's voice, Sam hadn't spoke for over half an hour. Dean had wondered if Sam would would ever speak a word to him again.

"Stop the car. Now, Dean"

Sam's voice was sharp, his eyes dark and his jaw set. Dean had seen that look only a few times, it meant that Sam had made a decision. And everyone who knew that once Sam made a decision there was no going back. Sam was a stubborn little bitch and Dean knew that more than anyone. And Dean knew, he just knew, that if he stopped the car then Sam would get out and walk away. Sam would leave. And Dean knew he wouldn't be able to stop his brother, he hadn't been able to stop Sam when he left for college. Sam would leave and Dean would be left broken.

Without Sam, Dean would welcome death and the burning pit with open arms. The pain of Hell would be nothing compared to the pain of losing Sam.

**You guys are amazing! I can't thank you enough for all the feedback! As always let me know if you want me to continue. A few of you are worried about whether or not this will have a happy ending, don't worry I don't think I can do a sad ending!**


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